These Paper Walls
by Violet Garnets
Summary: Dark's in college, doing as he pleases. But when Daisuke's mother arrives, the redhead becomes distant and angry, and Dark is at a loss for what to do. Requested by animehpgurl. AU; DarkDai
1. Chapter 1

These Paper Walls: Chapter One

_Author_: Violet Garnets  
_Rating_: T  
_Warnings_: Shounen-ai, language, partial OOC, Alternate Universe, un-betaed  
_Disclaimer_: I have no rights to DNAngel, and am not profiting off of this piece in any way.  
_Summary_: Dark's attending college, stealing knickknacks, avoiding student board member Satoshi, and trying to figure out what his old friend Daisuke is to him. But when Daisuke's estranged mother shows up, Daisuke becomes distant and angry, and Dark is at a loss of what to do. As requested by animehpgurl.

--

Daisuke Niwa bit his lip, staring blankly at the almost blank word document in front of him. It was one in the morning and he had roughly seven hours before his paper on the death of Impressionism was due. So far, he had formulated a rough introduction and the bare skeletons of the body paragraphs, with a very smooth conclusion. Conclusions were always so simple. Everything else before it was difficult.

The material was scattered across the room, everywhere, and it was a wonder anyone could navigate through the mounds of textbooks and articles. Daisuke's bed happened to be the most flooded, as that was where he was currently working on his laptop.

The rhythmic thudding of heavy bass lines shook the walls of his room. Lively shouts of laughter followed. God, living in a dorm was such a pain sometimes. Daisuke attempted to focus, but realized he had nothing to focus on anyway.

Unexpectedly, the door burst open with a bang. The redhead nearly fell out of his bed in surprise, but clung onto the sheets just before he fell over.

"I'm back! Did I wake you up?"

Daisuke tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes. He did so anyway though. The temptation was too hard to resist. "Actually, you didn't," he responded smoothly.

Dark's face fell. "Damn, I was hoping to bother the hell out of you. Shame you missed the party, Dai. There were quite a number of good-lookers out there. We could have gone scouting together!" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Scarlet eyes remained focused on the screen. "Well, I didn't miss the playlist," referring to the loud music still playing.

The violet-haired man laughed and jumped onto his roommate's bed. "How's the paper going?" he inquired as he settled into a comfortable position, lying down.

"Badly. There's still some crucial information I'm missing—"

"Crucial? Daisuke, no one uses that word anymore." Dark received a sharp stare, so he augmented his response. "But that just shows that you're quite intelligent! So that's exactly why you've done squat on your essay!"

Daisuke simply blushed and pouted fiercely. Dark chuckled and ruffled the other's unruly red hair.

"Hey, I've got an idea. Your mother knows a lot about this kind of—"

"How about not?"

"But—"

"No! You know what, just forget it." Daisuke shifted so he faced the corner of the room, away from Dark. "Why don't you just go back to that party?" he added childishly.

Dark held back a sigh. Clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder, he tried to apologize. "Okay, I'm sorry for pushing it. Do you want some help with your paper?"

Daisuke shrugged. "I guess that would be nice."

Violet brows relaxed from a tightly knit position, and the man smiled softly— if a bit bitterly as well. Although he knew Daisuke considered him to be like his best friend, this was one thing Dark had always been kept out of. He only knew that Daisuke had not spoken a word to his mother since his sophomore year of high school, but the younger one would never tell him exactly why.

"Hey, you hungry? We should go get something to eat," Dark himself was starting to feel the tolls of dancing and partying for hours on end.

Daisuke looked tempted. But finally he gave his answer. "Dark, not everyone is nocturnal. There's nothing open now at—" He looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand. "—1:30 in the morning. Besides, I wouldn't have time anyway. Paper, remember?" He gestured to the laptop.

His purple-eyed companion gave no response but simply walked out the door. The redhead was thoroughly perplexed, and also quite worried. Dark's sporadic tendencies usually ended up the same way. He turned his attention back to the screen for the moment. He already knew the outcome, so why worry?

Daisuke managed to fine-tune his essay a substantial amount when Dark came back in an hour later. The dorm had finally calmed down, and only the quiet humming of the computer could be heard.

Dark came in, looking triumphant. Daisuke's eyes nearly dropped out when he saw the festively colored bags the other had in his hands.

"You didn't."

"I did!" Dark plopped himself onto the bed and pulled out a delicately crafted pastry from the bag. "Danish?" He stuck it out in offering.

Daisuke brought up his hands to grab at the ends of his flaming bright hair. "I'm going to get fired if you keep stealing from there!"

"Not if you pay for it later," Dark trilled, his face impish.

"Well, you're going to run me into debt then." But pale hands took the Danish anyway and he nibbled on an end. It was lemon, his favorite. He smiled a little. Dark always knew how to cheer him up. "Could you pass me that textbook by the window there? I need to cite this one piece of my essay, and then I'm essentially done."

"Sure," Dark mumbled, his mouth full of cheese Danish goodness. He extended his body across, grabbed the book, and then came back to give it to Daisuke.

Vermilion eyes looked at the crumbs on his textbook disdainfully. "Thanks, Dark, for the added gift."

If Dark noticed the sarcasm, he took no heed of it. "No problem." His eyes remained on the window, squinted. "Hey, is it snowing?" He crawled over to the window, pressed closely against the glass. "It is! Hey, Dai, come on over and see!"

Daisuke felt a bit childlike, but couldn't resist. Snow was his favorite kind of weather. And staring at the computer too long was making his eyes prickle anyway. He joined his friend at the window. It was dark out, but under the various lights on the pathway, little flakes were drifting to the ground.

Smiles broke out on both of their faces.

"Do you think we'll have a lot by the morning?" Daisuke whispered, as if speaking at a normal volume would disturb the falling snow.

"I think so," Dark whispered back. "We should probably go to bed now. Falling asleep during class wouldn't be a good idea for you, and I plan on ditching class to make some forts."

The redhead giggled. "You're so childish."

"You know you'll want to join me."

Daisuke agreed, just not verbally. "Good night, Dark." He walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change.

"Night." Violet locks disappeared under a comforter. Crimson eyes lit up in the dark, smiling.

--

Daisuke pulled the stack of papers and dropped his essay onto the teacher's desk as he passed it, sighing with relief. It was like a weight dropped off of his chest. He knew he wouldn't get particularly high marks for something he threw together at the last minute, but fortunately it wouldn't be a huge part of his final grade.

His vermilion eyes scanned the room, searching, as he pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his coat pocket. Finally, he found him. Satoshi Hiwatari, Daisuke's best friend (although sometimes it didn't seem to be that way), sat in the corner nearest the wall of windows. It was the prime spot for daydreaming or slumping downwards and taking a nap, quite coveted by all the students. But no one was idiotic enough to challenge Satoshi for something trivial like a seat. Actually, no one even dared to ever challenge Satoshi at all.

The young man's brilliant ice-blue hair was typically easy to spot, but today it was covered by a black winter hat. Satoshi was looking outside, captivated by the falling snow, although it seemed like he was merely gazing disinterestedly.

Daisuke approached his friend with a smile. "Morning, Hiwatari-kun!" he chirped.

Satoshi pulled his eyes away from the windows to his friend for a moment, then turned back towards the window. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

"Ah, sorry about that. I stayed up all night working on the essay," the redhead chuckled sheepishly.

"Did you finish?"

Daisuke began to nod, but realized Satoshi was still looking at the snow outside. "Yeah, around two last night. So it wasn't an all-nighter."

"You're lucky Takarada-sensei isn't here yet."

"Yeah." Knowing the conversation was finished, Daisuke sat down and followed Satoshi's example, watching the drifting snow.

But it was only for a few moments, as their professor walked into the class looking disheveled and very cold. "Morning, everyone!" She trilled happily despite her shivering.

The class responded with a "Good morning!" in unison, although the tone in which they said the greeting varied. Daisuke's happened to be quite chipper. Satoshi, predictably enough, said nothing.

"I hope you all have turned in your essays."

Again, the class answered with a resounding "yes".

The teacher smiled. "Oh, I have such a lovely class, don't I?"

Emboldened by the flattery, a student a few easels away from Daisuke ventured a question. "Since we're so lovely, can we skip class?"

She laughed lightly and said with a cheerful lilt, "Are you crazy? Of course not." Before the class had a chance to hem and haw as they usually did, she jumped right into their next lesson. "Now that we have discussed Seurat's famous style of divisionism, I'd like to try mimicking his style so that we get a firmer grasp on how this style works and appeals to the eye. It's free on topic, so please get to work!"

"Yes, ma'am," they all replied, quietly surprised that their professor allowed them to head straight to painting. Typically, a few sketching sessions foreshadowed any chance for any other medium. Perhaps she was in a good mood.

For some reason, this art class always seemed to be in perfect unison when addressing their teacher. They really only diverged when creating their own artwork. Some students were spontaneous and capricious, doing whatever came to them. Others began aimlessly, and worked until something came to them. Then they would simply go over what they had done and push on with their new idea.

Daisuke supposed he was one of the more spontaneous ones. But he really did like to sit for a few minutes in silence first, taking in and absorbing his surroundings before beginning. It helped him convey the feelings he wanted to share, somehow.

Oddly enough, Daisuke thought that his friend was far more impulsive. He always began immediately, and paint flew across the canvas at rapid-fire speeds. Of course, he knew Satoshi planned everything out methodically and intentionally, but it was at such high velocity that it had to be called instinct more than deliberation.

This time, though, Satoshi seemed to have a problem tackling this style. He stared at the blank canvas looking disinterested. Daisuke knew better than to call it disinterested though. Satoshi was obviously upset with his inability to get going quickly.

"Too many things to think about," the blue-haired man muttered darkly.

Daisuke shrugged. "Then don't think about it. You always do fine anyway." Without another word, Daisuke picked a tube of orange from the shelf behind him and began to work. He knew Satoshi would chew on his words for a bit, and then follow the advice. Somehow their friendship just seemed to work out well that way.

Sure enough, he heard Satoshi shuffle around, most likely grabbing his paint supplies as well. With a small smile, Daisuke continued onwards, the image of two hands clasped together tightly enticing him.

A while later, when they were finishing up, Daisuke smiled as he appraised his progress. It was the first time in a while that he was satisfied with his artwork. There was something about the concise, repetitive motions of the brush going from palette to canvas that… _appealed_. Of course, he loved the smooth and arcing movements of his normal style, but it felt nice to stray from the norm every once in a while.

He didn't even feel the typical envy and self-disappointment when he looked over at Satoshi's painting. Of course, the way Satoshi managed to make the thousands of thousands of disconnected paint blobs look like they were a single entity was awe-inspiring and expected. The image of a waterfall made of snowflakes made everyone glance at the blue-haired man with barely disguised jealousy. But Daisuke was still floating on his content high, unable to feel any negative feelings. He simply admired his friend's work, unbiased and proud of the both of them.

Satoshi looked over at Daisuke's as well, and stared at it for quite a long time. Everyone else began to trickle out of the classroom, either off to their next class or playing out in the snow, using it as an excuse to act a little childish. Finally, Satoshi gave his opinion. "The execution's nice. I still don't like the subject."

"Just because humans aren't perfect doesn't mean they can't be immortalized, Hiwatari-kun." The redhead and his friend never clashed over quality of art, but always_, always_ on the subject they chose to portray.

"No; it just means they don't deserve to," he said, but he was already looking away, picking up his dark bag and readjusting his jet black hat.

Lightly Daisuke admired the way his friend's ice blue stood out against the darkness of the hat before shrugging. Their arguments always fell into nothing. It was too stupid to argue about things that would never match up, they knew. Daisuke followed suit, grabbed his things, and they walked out of the classroom together and down the hall in silence.

The first thing Daisuke noticed as they exited the building was how lovely all the snow was. He had forgotten it completely. The simple whiteness blanketed the ground so that all of the dead grass around campus disappeared altogether.

But before he was allowed to truly revel in the scenery, a cold, white sphere flew towards him and hit his jaw with a crunch. Daisuke gave a sharp yelp and his and immediately went to his jaw. He cupped it lightly as his eyes scanned the perimeter for the person responsible.

Without even asking whether Daisuke was okay – to him, it was obvious and therefore, unnecessary – Satoshi pointed to their left, where Dark was clutching his sides in an earnest attempt to keep from laughing, dropping his snowball in the process. The violet-haired man wiped invisible tears from his eyes, but his expression quickly turned sour when his gaze met Satoshi's.

"Did you know some pastries went missing last night, Daisuke?" Satoshi said faux-casually, obviously shouting it so Dark could hear. "I think some _nasty mice_ got in and made off with them." His sky blue eyes glared menacingly at Dark. He didn't notice Daisuke's light change in facial color, from pale to pink.

"Or maybe you were just being a fatty and ate them yourself?" Dark sneered as he jogged his way over to them.

Daisuke blanched. Dark could be so childish sometimes… He was unsure of what to do; Daisuke knew Satoshi and Dark's relationship never started off well.

Satoshi was one of the university's more upstanding characters, a prominent member of the student board, furthering his intimidating stature. He had caught Dark slipping a few dollars meant as a tip into his pocket at one of the university cafes at the beginning of the school term. Needless to say, Dark held a bitter resentment towards Satoshi for being the first person _ever_ to catch him. His revenge? To continue doing exactly what he had been doing for the past nineteen years of his life.

Dark was certainly not on the student board, but a "student, bored" as he aptly put it himself. In addition, the violet-haired man had a tendency to…well, frankly, steal. It certainly wasn't kleptomania. Dark was always fully aware of his steals. Sometimes it was a pastry from the shop or a little gizmo on display. He didn't find any guilt in doing so— Dark was always a _carpe diem_ type, never held down by a single regret. Sometimes Daisuke wondered if he should even hang out with such a character. But for some reason, to leave Dark would be like losing a part of him. It was strange.

So this all led to his uncomfortable situation between two obviously incompatible persons. Their piercing glares seemed to slice right through Daisuke's being, and he shifted from one foot to another, resisting the urge to laugh sheepishly. A nervous giggle ended up escaping his lips anyway. "So, uh, Hiwatari-kun, I think Dark and I should just get—"

"Going?" Dark interjected. "Right, we should go eat lunch together, I'm starved." His violet eyes flashed for an instant at Satoshi, and Daisuke wished he could interpret the message his friend just sent.

"Um, right. So, I'll see you later, Hiwatari-kun!" Daisuke's voice hitched. Satoshi only nodded after giving Dark an icy look. Dark grabbed the redhead by the sleeve lightly and pulled him away.

When he nearly tripped over himself, Daisuke gave a startled yelp. "You know you can slow down now!" he exclaimed, clearly indignant.

"I don't like him. He's creepy, not to mention a complete bastard."

"He is not!"

Dark stopped abruptly and turned around to face his friend. Their faces were just inches apart. Daisuke's heart stopped, for a fraction of a second, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Dark sighed, and it made a white little puff in the air. "I just…"

"Dark! There you are!" A very feminine voice called out, and the two of them looked over in the direction it was coming from.

It was a middle-aged woman with a bob of tawny hair and small rosy lips, someone the both of them knew very well: Emiko Niwa, the mother of Daisuke. She smiled and waved but her expression quickly changed to one of surprise. "Daisuke!"

Dark looked to his side and saw that the redhead was no longer there, but behind him, running off as quickly as his short legs could carry him. He echoed the name, but Daisuke kept going. He turned a corner and disappeared out of sight.

"Oh…" Emiko's soft voice whimpered, and for the first time in his life, Dark realized just how old the woman was.

--

Ta-da! I'm back, boys and girls! This is a request fanfic, so I'm planning on making it a short piece, around three to five chapters. I hope you all enjoy, and stick around to see the rest! As always, the update rate will be sporadic, but I hope to finish it within six months. We'll see how things go, right? Thank you for reading, and comments are appreciated.

Ja ne,  
Vi


	2. Chapter 2

These Paper Walls: Chapter Two

--

The little restaurant at which Dark and Emiko were currently situated was a short walk away from the college campus, and very quaint in appearance. Everyone and everything bustled with a cheery livelihood, and no attention was paid to the middle-aged woman and her young companion. Of course, there was always an exception. A few overdramatic college students who had heard various rumors about the young sophomore began to fabricate some ridiculous story upon seeing the violet-haired man. Dark knew it would be spread across campus by the time he returned to his dorm, but it wouldn't really matter. It never mattered.

Emiko painstakingly stirred her cooling cappuccino with the spoon, as if nothing else in the world was as important. Dark sat opposite her, waiting patiently, observing quietly. Hidden between Emiko's tawny-golden strands of hair were pale gray ones, and the finest wrinkles curved around her eyes. Her posture slumped ever so gently and her hands were lightly worn. She was aging gracefully, but the fact that she was aging remained. The idea sort of shocked him, that she could ever look this way.

Of course, he knew people grew older. It wasn't as if he ignored the fact. But Emiko Niwa used to always have a smile to excuse the lines on her face, and the stray gray hairs were simply strands that caught the light more than others. Her lack of energy, her youthful livelihood, seemed to have disappeared completely. The strange thing was that it had been only a year since he had seen her last. Dark never expected to see her like this in so short a time.

With Daisuke acting so strangely and Emiko looking like she had been tried too many times, it was needless to say that Dark was worried. The Niwas, all of them, were important to him. They were his only family, after all.

Well, that was a bit of a lie. He had loved his mother dearly, a lovely woman. She had been beautiful, inside and out; every aspect of her radiated with a waiflike pulchritude. She used to scold him for stealing things, but always blushed lightly when he said he took it because "it looked prettier on her than on the rack". When they went to return the stolen item, no one would ever be offended, because her sincere apology coupled with her lovely looks won them over.

His father had pursued her because of her appearance. She had been young and naïve. Dark supposed most beautiful women in the world were, or they were the extreme opposite. He was a middle-aged man, a powerful tycoon in the Japanese business world, bored with the trophy wife (foreign, even) he had at home. Dark's mother thought the great businessman loved her. He did. But he couldn't divorce his wife; no, that wouldn't look good at all.

So when she learned of her pregnancy, she decided to disappear. An illegitimate child would only burden him. Dark's mother left the bustle of Tokyo for a quieter part of Japan, down south. Dark was born, and she spent her days raising her son in content— until she died when Dark was sixteen years old. Like a cherry blossom, her life was exquisite yet fleeting. It had been tuberculosis, only properly diagnosed when she lay on her deathbed. He found out about her terminal illness just a month or so after she told him the story behind his father.

Despite himself, Dark tried to spend more time away from the house as possible then. His mother understood and didn't hold him to it; being so young, the image of his fading mother was far too terrifying to face.

It was during this time that he happened to meet Daisuke. Dark was at the market, when a pretty little trinket caught his eye. It would look nice in his mother's collection, he had thought. But as he slipped the thing into his pocket, a firm hand gripped his arm. It was a young boy, probably fourteen or so, barely large enough for the apron he wore to fit him.

Those scorching blood-red eyes had questioned him, shook Dark to his core. "What are you doing?"

Dark had only looked straight into those eyes, keeping silent. He had meant to say something, he did. But between them, there was suddenly an understanding. Something connected.

"Niwa Daisuke."

"Mousy Dark."

"That's not a lot of money."

"I'll pay for it some other time."

"…Alright."

And the redhead had let him go, and turned away to engage his manager in a quiet conversation. Dark slipped out unnoticed. Dark remembered smiling inwardly when he found that his mother could pull up enough energy to reprimand him for his steal, and the immense gratitude he felt for the young redhead who seemed to understand him so well.

When his mother died weeks later, he bore through the funeral quietly. He made the proper responses to thoughtless condolences, and merely nodded to the piteous glances they gave him throughout the whole ordeal. There were no tears or huge tantrums as his mother's body was lowered into the ground and covered over, never to see the sunlight again.

He didn't know when, he didn't know just why— but he went back to the market. For some reason, the boy came up to his mind and he felt a _need_ to see him. Sure enough, there was Daisuke when he got there, sweeping some dust around aisle seven. The younger teen looked up upon hearing Dark's light patters. His eyes were questioning, curious, and somehow aware of Dark's situation.

"Do you have any black in your closet?" was Dark's only question.

Daisuke looked down at his ensemble, and then back at Dark to give a tentative shrug. "Just this T-shirt. I'm just about to leave, I can go and change if—"

But the word 'leave' had seized Dark with a sudden, uncontrollable panic. Without thinking, he grabbed the boy's arm and dashed out the door. Daisuke had never said a single word, but only followed as quickly as his short legs could carry him.

They finally stopped at the cemetery, right in front of his mother's grave.

"Mom!" He had choked, his voice breaking through the onslaught of tears. "I'll miss you!" Strangely uncharacteristic of him in many ways, but he had been sick of it, sick of being suave and collected while he stood in front of his dead mother's body. All he wanted to do was be four years old again celebrating the annual festivals with his mother in light yukatas, smiling and not caring what passerby thought. But he couldn't turn back the clock, couldn't age backwards, so he made do with an innocent-looking boy and acting as childish as a sixteen-year old could.

He remembered Daisuke held his hand tightly, and made no idiotic comments of sympathy or empathy. He communicated in the best way, since words always seemed to be constraining anyway.

They had been mostly inseparable ever since. Dark had taken a job at the market as well, and life was fine. The Niwa family welcomed him with open arms every time he felt lonely at his apartment.

Emiko, out of the three adults, had been his favorite because she reached out to him so much. He understood Kosuke was quiet and naturally reserved, and Daiki had a certain candidness that bothered Dark every now and then. But he supposed he liked Emiko best of all because she was so…maternal. Yes, it was obvious. But, after the loss of his mother…he had hoped she could help him.

She certainly wasn't a replacement for his mother; Emiko was too loud, too outgoing, too klutzy, among many other things to resemble his mother in any way. But when she smiled, sometimes, he imagined his mother smiling at him with the same emotion, when she pulled him into an overenthusiastic hug, he imagined his mother …and he became attached. She was the female figure he needed in his life, at least until he found a girlfriend—or that was the plan, until recently.

He really couldn't say when, but sometime, sometime in college, he realized his feelings for Daisuke ran just a little deeper than best friends. He wasn't really sure of the full extent of his feelings, but he knew it was enough that he would never give the redhead up to anyone else. Ever. No one had ever seen Dark cry besides Daisuke. If it wasn't for the boy, Dark was sure he never would have made it anywhere. Only Daisuke understood Dark the way he wanted to be understood.

So it bothered Dark just a smidge that he couldn't help Daisuke the way Daisuke had helped him so many times. This one time, he had to try. He knew Daisuke would regret his actions if they weren't resolved before too late; he could feel it.

"So…" he began, staring Emiko straight in the eye, "what, exactly…is going on?"

She broke the eye contact, choosing instead to focus on a passing couple outside. "I don't know," she finally said, her voice nearly broken. "I…No, I'm lying. I think I might know. I guess I do know. I…don't know!"

Dark, despite the seriousness of the situation, stifled a chuckle at Emiko's typical answer.

"I…just…I don't think I've shown him how much I love him recently. I don't want to make this sound bad, but I think…I spent too much time on you these past years."

Dark violet eyes widened, slowly. "Me?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I…couldn't help myself! You, dear, you're everything Daisuke can be two years ahead. I wanted him to be strong and confident like you are."

"So, you compared him to me?"

"I never thought of it that way…I didn't mean it like that—" Emiko's voice hitched, tears welling up.

"I can't believe…" Dark finally noticed the almost-cruel edge his voice had gained. Instead of saying anything, he turned to the window and pretended to watch passerby. He breathed slowly, trying to process the situation. It wasn't like Emiko was the sole culprit here. It was his fault as well, coming over to their house so often, intruding on family moments; he helped to break apart this family. He never meant to, didn't ever want to— but then again, Oedipus didn't exactly plan on screwing his mother either. Oh…that was a bad analogy, Dark thought sourly. Ancient Greek Studies was starting to get its hold on him. But in any case… "So…why did you call my name earlier?"

Emiko looked up, confused. "I called his name too. Did you two not hear me?"

"I don't think," Dark said, a sudden profoundness overcoming him, "you're calling for him loud enough."

She only nodded and smiled bitterly. "I've failed, dear. And I need to try and get another chance, even though he's given me so many already."

"How many chances? For how long?"

"Well," she sighed, pulling at a strand of her hair, "I suppose it's been a year since he told me he hated me." Her voice broke at the word 'hate'. "I've been trying so hard to reach him, but he hangs up if Kosuke or Dad gives the phone to me, and I haven't had time to make the long drive up here. And I thought if I gave him time, he would…be more willing to see me." She gave a little pause, and allowed Dark to scoff lightly at her naivety. "Here, I'll stop beating around the bush. Dark… I need you to help me. Please—be the mediator?"

He found himself nodding even before he fully processed his own actions. Emiko let out an audible sigh, and finally took a sip of her coffee. Judging by her expression, Dark guessed it was cool by now. He checked his phone, and found that it was getting late.

"I should get going, Emiko," he muttered, paying for the coffee as the waiter walked by. "I've got a few tests to study for."

"Go ahead. And thank you. Thank you so much."

He gave a little wave as he walked out the door, looking casual and cool as always. But inside, his mind was still winding through all the information, still unsure of what to do. Sure, he told her he would be mediator, but what exactly did that mean? How the hell was he supposed to go about this? Just walk up to Daisuke and jump into a ridiculously strange conversation? Not that he had never done that before, but this was…a little different. It was more delicate. Really, the only thing more awkward than this was just to tell Daisuke his feelings! Imagining how that would go, Dark shuddered and found his current obstacle slightly easier—maybe.

He broke his train of thought to hold a door open for a teacher, then continued his path down the hallway. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going to end up, but he half-hoped someone would stop him on the way, distract him with something trivial like a party or even homework. No one did. He climbed the stairs slowly, so slowly, dragging on each minute.

Dark didn't particularly like awkward moments. Everything should be smooth, from stealing to socializing to kissing. But he didn't like seeing Daisuke upset either. This wasn't something he could just ignore. He knew Daisuke, and he knew that the redhead would never be alright spending his life hating someone, unlike other people.

Suddenly, he found himself in the counselor's room. He groaned as he heard the door shut behind him. "You always do this," Dark groaned.

A woman popped up at his right, smiling brightly. "You really shouldn't let your guard down in this building then!" she chirped.

The school's resident counselor and one of a few professors of psychology, Towa was a bit…eccentric, when it came to the typical image of psychologists. Not only did the woman trade out the suits and blouses most teachers wore for goth-loli dresses, she refused to tell anyone her last name and insisted that she was really twenty-four, graduating ahead of schedule. Of course, everyone knew better. But there was something really, really…_off_ about her. Most people played along, terrified of what Towa would do if they didn't. But for every action, there is a force opposing it. The opposing force to Towa was Dark.

"Ya old witch, taking advantage of the young and confused."

She made a shocked expression, covering her mouth with her hand. Her clover-green eyes, however, glinted mischievously over the tips of her dainty fingers. "Why I never, Dark. I'm only here to help you college students find your way! I certainly have a knack for finding things, you know."

"Does anyone else say that but you?"

She ignored him and managed to sit Dark down on one of the plush chairs in the room, looking a bit comical since she was a whole foot shorter than him. Her lilac petticoats flounced underneath her dark violet dress; the matching ribbons wound through her hair twirled as she finally managed to force Dark onto the seat.

Although one might expect Towa's office to be filled with black kittens or lace filigrees of skulls, her room was actually quite uniform to the rest of the school. The walls were a patient lilac with slightly darker lily patterns scattered across. The furniture was off-white, almost cream, and elegant with all of its sloping curves.

"Purple is actually a good color for contemplation, you know," Towa twittered as she sat on top of her desk, reading his mind. She eyed his hair, her eyes filling up with faux pity. "It's a shame it doesn't help _you_ think, sort of. But at least you have me! Now, tell Towa what's on your mind."

"Nothing."

"Come on now, don't be shy. There's certainly something."

"How would you know?"

"Because whenever you walk down a hallway daydreaming, there's something on your mind. Like the first time I invited you in here!"

Dark sniffed. "_Dragged_, you mean." But she did have a point, he admitted to himself— albeit reluctantly. He really only dawdled like that when he was worried, and only Towa and Daisuke had ever noticed that about him.

The counselor fiddled with a lock of her silvery hair, feigning disinterest. "So, what's going on in that little noggin of yours? Boy-boy troubles again? You get rejected by the redhead?"

"No!" The male flushed, much to his dismay and her glee. "I won't tell him that."

"But, it _is_ about him, isn't it?" When he nodded, she continued her prodding. "Is he angry at you?"

Dark shrugged. "I'm not actually…the main character in this." Thus he told her the whole story, from being his mother's death all the way to the meeting that very day. He skipped out on telling her about the feelings for Daisuke thing, because they'd gone over that before – the very first time Towa had unsuspectingly pulled him into her lair, demanding to know everything. But, like last time, he found himself full of words, and they inundated the room with a nearly-unbearable force. Towa sat there, done with her hair-twirling, her total attention focused on him as she soaked in all the words. Somehow it wasn't unnerving, but rather motivating, to see those steady emerald eyes on him. When he finished, he realized the clock hands had moved forward two hours. He suddenly felt self-conscious, and muttered an apology for taking up so much time.

Towa smiled, one that reminded Dark of something akin to a maternal smile, and shook her head. "You crazy kids make my career. I'm happy to listen." Dark supposed calling all the students that came to her crazy would normally be offensive but he knew she didn't think that. If anyone could be considered crazy, it was Towa herself, not the students who were corralled into her office. "So, you want to hear what I think?"

"You're not going to let me out if I don't, so sure."

"You'll figure it out yourself."

There was a period of silence. Birds chirped outside the window. Then—

"That's it?" Dark nearly shouted. "How the hell are you a counselor?"

Towa shrugged, and smoothed out invisible creases on her apron daintily. "You already know what you should do, don't you?"

"Uh…no."

"Sure you do. Stop being a priss and just do it."

The college student, for all his ridiculous studying over vocabulary and his extraordinary intelligence, had absolutely nothing to say. As always, the crazy lady had a point.

Dark hated counselors.

--

Huge apologies for the long wait, but I've got to prioritize my life and sadly, fanfiction writing falls to the bottom. I guess it doesn't help that this chapter was more informative than exciting, but if you guys have read Guardian Gates, you know I like to end things with some conflict and…erm, fluffiness (wink). But finals are coming up and I'll be done afterwards, so I hope that I can finish this story by June/July. We'll see how things go. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and I hope you guys enjoyed!

Ja ne,

Vi


	3. Chapter 3

These Paper Walls: Chapter Three

--

Daisuke paced back and forth the dorm room, sighing for the tenth time in fifteen minutes. Nothing he tried settled the sprinting and jumping inside his mind. Even reading ahead for his Literature class had failed him. He felt angry and upset, and nothing he did would alleviate the intensity of those feelings. Between his fury and depression, he couldn't distinguish which one was stronger, and that only served to raise both emotions to another level. He knew he was holing himself into a trap; he just didn't know what to do to get out.

There was a light rapping on the door, and Daisuke identified it as his roommate. Dark always hit the wood in a very distinctive way, different from everyone else. The redhead could never figure just what was so different, however. He just knew it was.

"Come in," he called out, although his heart sunk at the impending conversation. Daisuke was incredibly tempted to ask Dark not to bring it up, but he already knew the answer. The older male was persistent, and this was something he definitely would not let go.

Dark, however, said nothing as he entered their room. He pulled a book from the shelf, plopped onto his bed, and began to read. The sophomore's face was indifferent, calm, betraying no hint that he was going to discuss the previous events at all.

Needless to say, the redhead was completely bewildered, yet relieved as well. As he picked up a stray jacket from the floor, Daisuke was again thrown off-guard as Dark spoke. His voice was gentle, as even as the expression on his face. His eyes never left the book.

"I'm a horrible person, Daisuke."

Daisuke raised an eyebrow.

"I really am. I'm a thief, and I can't help it. I'm selfish, I'm stubborn, I'm manipulative. I do what I want. I don't really care about anything. So no one cares about me."

"You're just fishing for compliments. If you were such a bad person, you wouldn't be so popular."

Dark flipped a page and Daisuke finally noticed it was not a textbook, but the _Oresteia_, which Dark had mentioned was a famous Greek tragedy about a family that fell apart. "Popular? How many friends do I really have, Dai? How many besides you?"

Daisuke was surprised that he had to fumble and hunt for names in his mind. Did Dark really have so few friends? "What about the Haradas?"

"Riku hates me. Risa's still following me around like a puppy. I can't quite call those friendships. You, on the other hand; there's the Haradas, that annoying journalist kid, the American, the creepy bastard, I could go on for quite a while. Sometimes, I want to be you, Dai," he ended, the last phrase little more than a whisper. His eyes finally tore away from the book and bored into Daisuke's. The younger one jolted instinctively at the eye contact.

"You're just joking now," and Daisuke realized how quiet his voice was, how it quivered so. "Why would you want to be me? You're…loved." He couldn't look at the intense violet anymore. He turned away, focusing his attention on some invisible speck of interest on the wall.

"As are you, and even more so than I."

"By who?"

Dark opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came of it. He shut his mouth, sighed, and said simply, "Your mother."

Daisuke howled wildly, suddenly. He knew Dark must have dropped his book out of surprise. "Of course! Of course it would come to this! Damn, Dark, I always forget how genius you are. She put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Why would she put me up to this?" Dark replied smoothly, neither confirming nor denying the other's accusations.

"I don't know, because she feels guilty! Guilty for ignoring me for the past few years, never paying me any attention because she had eyes for no one but you!"

"Why would she feel guilty, then? Why else other than the fact that she loves you, her only son?"

And here, Daisuke paused. Suddenly, he didn't know what to say. How could he retort with a plausible reason. The ones he had suddenly felt weak, pathetic. But… "So what? How am I supposed to forgive her for neglecting me?"

Daisuke felt a tad triumphant when Dark hesitated, as if his own ineloquence had been transferred to the plum-haired man.

"Well…she's your mother. You only have one, Daisuke. She loves you, she always had. It was my fault. I shouldn't have intruded into your life like I did."

"What? Your fault?"

The older one shrugged. "Why would it be your mother's fault? She kept worrying for me because I lost— I lost my own mom. She believed in you, Daisuke. She knew you'd be alright no matter what. But if I hadn't been there, she would never have ignored you. You should be mad at me."

"I…can't hate you, Dark. It's impossible."

Dark's eyes widened. The _Oresteia_ lay beside him, completely forgotten. "Dai…what do you mean by that?"

In all their years together, they never had a conversation quite so…thick. Daisuke sighed. They were already in this deep; might as well finish it out to the end. "I…just can't hate you. I never will."

Suddenly, he was pulled downwards. Amidst discarded jackets and what seems to be a forgotten pillow, Daisuke was pinned to the floor underneath a slightly, older, very handsome man. He gulped instinctively and unwittingly looked into Dark's eyes.

They were the same as they had always been; that curious shade of purple, that sly and sharp shape. As an artist, the redhead unknowingly searched for the emotions. Confusion being the most dominant, but there seemed to be a bit of…hope. "Do you…like me?"

"O-o-of course." Daisuke wondered what he should attribute his stuttering to. His heart beat wildly, jumping around in his chest just as much as his thoughts had been only some time earlier.

But just as quickly as it had happened, the man was off of him, pulling him up by the arm. When the two of them were standing, Dark gripped the younger one's arm.

"Daisuke," he muttered, his tone struggling to keep even, "trust me on this." With that, he left without another glance.

The redhead collapsed like a heavy sigh, his knees giving out from under him. His face was flushed, his hair mussed, and beads of sweat trickled down his neck. He felt dizzy, completely disoriented. Yet somehow none of that completely registered in his mind; the overpowering sound of Dark's footsteps stomping down the hall usurped all command of his brain, and he could think of nothing else. It was as if every single function in his body had been pushed into overdrive to the point where everything froze: timeless, unchanging, stagnant.

And then, as all things hit maximum, Daisuke slipped into oblivion.

_I hate her._

_She ignored me._

_She cared for Dark more than me._

_I hate her._

_**She loves you.**_

_His mind reeled. Why was he so dizzy? Why did his dizziness make him feel…giddy? A red metal appeared in front of him. Daisuke grabbed it automatically. As soon as he did so, the bar grew, expanded into a massive playground carousel. He continued to whirl around on the merry-go-round, until at last the metal grew slick from his sweat, and he was forced to let go. _

_For a fleeting moment, Daisuke saw only the sky; it was endless, changeless, and violet._

_Violet? What a strange color for a sky, the boy thought absently, but it disappeared from his thoughts as he plunged into the ground, surrounded by rocks that felt soft, rather than painful._

"_Dai-chan!" a taut soprano trilled, worry laced within the two syllables. "Are you all right?" His mother came rushing from seemingly nowhere. Her hair was long and it flew behind her like a golden shadow. When she finally reached him, he realized she was also much larger in comparison to his own body. Sitting down, his head barely reached her knee. _

"_Momma?" The word came out of his mouth before he even realized it._

_She grabbed his hands and inspected them, her eyes intense under furrowed brows. "Oh, you're bleeding. Why didn't you catch yourself, Daisuke? Don't make me panic like that."_

_Daisuke smiled inwardly. He shrugged at his mother, replacing his smile with a blank look._

_She only shook her head. "I'm glad you're safe now," she whispered and clasped her hands together, Daisuke's tiny hand stuck in between. Emiko leaned over towards him and kissed him on the forehead, her lips cool and refreshing against his feverishly warm head. "Now please wake up."_

He obeyed the command, the images shattered, giving way to darkness. He struggled to open his eyes, but everything was so blurry, and his head was so, so heavy. He shifted to his left side and something cool fell off his forehead. The vague outline of a person fell into his vision. "Dark?" he rasped, and his throat tingled with a striking pain. Blinking a few more times, the blur finally gave way to clarity, and he realized the person was not Dark but someone he never expected: his mother.

Emiko picked up the towel from the floor and folded it primly. Daisuke watched her hands and was surprised to see her veins stand out prominently against her skin, a grim olive against a pallid pigment. Her knuckles practically pierced the flesh that enclosed them. He never remembered his mother looking this way; even when she ignored him, she had been gay and lively while doing so, which perhaps pained him even more. But no matter what, seeing the hands that had once cared for him so diligently as a child looking like this made his heart twinge.

"Mom," he choked. His head was beginning to reel again. He closed his eyes. Why was it so hot in this room?

A chilled hand pressed against his cheek. "Daisuke, you caught a cold." He said nothing, too tired and too sick to manage more than one word. So Emiko continued. "Dai…I hope you're not too sick to forget what I'm going to say." He heard her take a deep breath and it sounded a bit like a gasp. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I haven't been the mother I should have—" She couldn't continue. Little gasps of breath escaped her like hiccups, and Daisuke recalled that the last time she cried, she sounded just like that.

It was decided for Daisuke at that moment; summoning up all of his energy, his hand slowly reached hers, and he held it gently. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She continued to cry, but squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

Daisuke couldn't stay awake any longer. But as he drifted off, he smiled lightly. A weight in his chest, one he didn't even know he had been carrying, melted away and a delicate warmth fell upon him; a warmth not unpleasant like his fever. He wondered if it was love. He couldn't remember. It had been too long since he last felt that emotion. But he hoped it was.

When Daisuke woke up again, it was dark. Only his lamp provided any light. Six-thirty shone on his alarm clock in bright red, burning into his retinas. His mother was nowhere to be found. He yawned and stretched, happy to note that his fever had passed.

Just then, the door opened and Dark walked in with a large plastic bag slung over his back. Seeing Daisuke awake, he smiled. "Rise and shine, sicky!"

Daisuke smiled back. It was nice that Dark had let go of their argument. He hated being angry at anyone, especially his roommate. However, he suddenly remembered something, and groaned. "I missed work…and class!"

"No worries, Daisuke. I told your boss you were down and out, and I got a copy of the notes for you from Creepy Bastard."

Dark actually talking to Hiwatari-kun…for his sake? Daisuke suddenly found himself blushing. "Thanks, Dark. That was really, really nice of you."

To his surprise, Dark blushed, although less than Daisuke. "Well, you can't leave a sick kid floundering around in college."

"Thanks for you know…talking sense into me too."

"Well," Dark paused to clear his throat, "I just don't want to see you two fighting."

Daisuke smiled inwardly. "You know, when I was little, I would purposely get hurt. Falling off things and getting little cuts and all."

"The hell? Were you a suicidal tyke?"

"No, not really. I just wanted to make sure Mom would come and take care of me. I guess I was always afraid she wouldn't."

"Well, did she?"

Daisuke shook his head. "No; she was there, every single time. Every time. She never once left me to deal with it alone. Not even in high school. I guess I just didn't notice. And I mean, I stopped needing her by then. I didn't get hurt anymore. Besides, I've got someone else to help me up now, right?" He beamed at Dark, and quietly noted the way the older man fidgeted, just slightly. As much as he'd like to extend the awkward moment, if just to see Dark squirm for once, he decided it was time for a subject change. "Where's Mom?"

"Oh, your dad called. Apparently your grandfather blew up a bookcase somehow—"

"Was he pretending to be a Druid again?"

"No idea, but I bet he was. So she went home to give Kousuke some moral support and clean up, I suppose." He held up the plastic bag and beamed. "But she made some tamagoyaki for us!"

Daisuke's mouth watered almost immediately. His mother wasn't a particularly skilled cook, but her tamagoyaki was never less than divine. Perhaps it was because the recipe wasn't terribly difficult. It didn't matter though. Besides the café and the bakery Daisuke worked at, the two of them had essentially lived off of ramen and occasional visits to the campus cafeteria. With classes, they never bothered to try and cook, despite their education in home economics. Some home-cooking was always welcomed.

"You hungry yet?" Dark asked, taking a seat on his bed as he did so.

Shaking his head in reply, an idea fell into Daisuke's head. It was odd, strange, and yet…somehow totally sensible. "Hey, Dark. Come over here. I think I need help getting out of bed."

Dark complied and took the younger one's hands, hoisting him upwards with a forceful tug. But it was just a little too forceful, and the redhead's body was suddenly pushed right up against his. Without a moment's hesitance, Daisuke leaned and pressed his lips against the other's. It was gentle, lingering. He dragged his lips away, and Dark almost started forward, as if to pursue. He lost his footing and nearly toppled them both.

When he regained balance, the hazy look had gone from his eyes. He whispered a single "Why?"

Daisuke shrugged. "It just felt right." And it had been right, more than right; it had been right on cue. Daisuke knew his scarlet eyes must have been sparkling. Seeing the suave, ever eloquent Dark at a loss for words usually gave him that look, a triumphant and amused expression. Rarely anyone ever threw him off, and somehow Daisuke had found the perfect combination to mess with Dark's perfect psyche. "Can we take a walk? I think I need some fresh air."

"You're still sick, aren't you? Walking around in the cold isn't a good idea." The redhead suddenly found himself up close and personal with Dark again. This time, it was his breath that hitched and he was the one thrown off-balance. "Aren't there _other_ things we can do?"

Daisuke pushed him away, a pout on his face. "Didn't you just say I was still sick? Pervert."

"Pervert is only one letter off from perfect."

The response was a snort. "Two letters, stupid."

Dark wrapped his arms around the smaller one, burying his head in Daisuke's shoulder. "Well, is this okay?"

That same delicate warmth rose in Daisuke again, burbling inside him like a cascading fountain of frothy champagne. Was this…

No; this didn't labels. This was Dark. He was Daisuke. And they were always there.

Together.

Tomorrow, he had work to make up. Dark would probably get his cold, and he'd have to take care of him instead. He had a class to catch up on. He'd probably have to cram through another loud party, where the music could be heard through every wall in the dorm. But he supposed it was alright.

Because although his walls had been taken down, the ones that had kept him so safe, he had his mother back. He had Dark. He always had Dark. Now he had Dark's kisses as well.

He never thought so much could happen in just a few days, that his walls would disassembled so easily. But maybe they had always been meant to be removed. Maybe they had been made out of paper.

Dark broke into his musings by holding the younger one even tighter and coyly whispered into his ear, "You better plan on getting better soon. I've got things…I need to do."

Daisuke gulped, and suddenly hoped that their dorm walls were more insulated than he had previously assumed.

Things were going to turn a different direction for Daisuke Niwa's college life, in more ways than one.

END

Ah, this last one moved quickly, didn't it? I'm sorry it's not quite up to standard. I still get nervous writing endings and conflicts, and I need practice, I know. I hope you liked it though. This isn't definitively finished, but just consider it so…I might add an epilogue or something, but that's not a priority right now.

Now I'll be getting to work on Medium and other fics, but all fanfiction is kind of being pushed back for me. I've got some really important writing projects to do, things that may set my future on a good path. But I'll try to do what I can, and sneak in some SpellDrops chapters. I wish the best towards all of you, and happy belated birthday **animeangel088**! I'm terribly sorry I couldn't get this out sooner.

Much love to all of you, I certainly hope you continue to read, write, and dream. I hope to see you all soon.

Ja ne,

Vi


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